


Fake Moans and Dial Tones

by watchcatewrite



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phone Sex, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchcatewrite/pseuds/watchcatewrite
Summary: The first time Tyler calls he’s bored. Not even particularly horny, if he’s honest. Just bored.
Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 30
Kudos: 94





	Fake Moans and Dial Tones

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, more than a little bit, by [this post](https://grouplovehoodie.tumblr.com/post/190330466082/ill-take-fake-moans-and-dial-tones-let-em-spill). So thanks, Bo!
> 
> As usual, this was supposed to just be sex and now it’s an 11k emotional monstrosity. Hope you guys like that kind of thing.
> 
> читать по-русски [Вот](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9315470)

The first time Tyler calls he’s bored. Not even particularly horny, if he’s honest. Just bored. 

He’d seen the number on a billboard along one of Columbus’ highways multiple times, snapping a pic to make some clever joke in an Instagram story that had never materialized. Instead the picture had languished in his phone, its garish font and cliché slogan making him laugh every time he flipped through his photos. _Call us for a good time_. How could you say no to a slogan like that?

When it rings he almost loses his nerve. Why’s he even doing this? Who calls phone sex lines anymore? There’s free internet porn, for Christ’s sake, why would you bother heavy breathing into a mouth piece? If Mark ever found out he’d give him so much shit, Tyler would never hear the end of it. But fuck it. It’s Friday night, he’s 27 years old, and he’s bored. What else is he gonna do?

“Hi baby, thanks for calling. Who’re you looking to talk to tonight?” The voice is breathy, sultry; Tyler can practically see them lounging on a velvet chaise, hair in Farrah Fawcett waves, covered with a silky, feather-lined robe. 

“Um... I dunno.” His voice stutters and Tyler feels his cheeks heat in a blush. 

“That’s okay, sweetie. You wanna talk to a girl or a guy tonight?” It’s such an unassuming question, said so casually. 

“A—a guy.” Tyler’s voice is stilted, his cheeks growing warmer. 

This is a stupid idea. He’s only just coming to terms with the fact that he likes guys, years of inner turmoil finally coming to a head. Tyler hasn’t told anyone yet, hasn’t even told Mark, and he knows that’s a clear indication of how big the subject is. He’s just going to be embarrassed, or say something stupid. It’s not like he’s well renowned for his dirty talk, and this is like moving from the bunny slope directly onto the black diamond. 

“Mmm, I know just the one. Let’s just get you settled with billing first and then you two can get acquainted. Okay, baby?”

Tyler finds himself nodding stupidly, before realizing he can’t be seen. “Uh yeah, sounds good. Okay.”

The billing process is reassuringly easy—Tyler hardly has to do anything and then he’s “all set” and ready to meet his “date” for the night. They actually call the guy that, Tyler’s “date.” He wants to laugh at how ridiculous this all is, but at the end of the day _he’s_ the one who called, so does he really have a leg to stand on? The line’s quiet for a bit and then there’s a _click_. Tyler doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath, his curiosity more than piqued at this point. 

“Hey, I’m Josh. What’s your name?” The voice is warm, soft, like a blanket Tyler could wrap around his shoulders and fall asleep in. 

He swallows thickly. 

“Uh, Tyler. I’m Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you, Tyler. You sound kinda nervous, this your first time?” Tyler can actually hear the smile in his voice. He imagines full lips parted to reveal white teeth. 

“No. I mean, yeah. I’ve never called before but I—I’m not like a—yeah. You—you know what I mean.”

Josh laughs gently and Tyler feels his cheeks burn. “I know what you mean.”

He swallows again. He hopes Josh can’t hear it on the other side.

“So how does this work?” Tyler feels stupid for asking, but he’s still worried he’s gonna say the wrong thing. 

“We just talk. We can talk about something specific if you want—“

“Like what?” Tyler interrupts him, but Josh doesn’t sound bothered. 

“Like if you have a certain fantasy you wanna discuss.” Tyler’s already shaking his head, even though Josh can’t see him. “But I find it’s usually best if we just let it come to us naturally.”

Tyler nods for a bit, like an actual idiot, before remembering. “Yeah—yeah, I like that better.”

“Cool.” Josh sounds relaxed, Tyler imagines him sinking into couch cushions at the end of a long day. “So what’d you do today, Tyler?”

“Just went to work. Spent some time working on music.”

“You’re a musician?” Josh sounds genuinely interested, and Tyler finds it easy to keep talking. 

“Uh, yeah. Piano and ukulele. I’m trying to learn bass too.”

“That’s so cool. I always had a thing for musicians. I bet you get that a lot.” Tyler’s face heats in another blush. 

“Not _a lot_.”

Josh laughs again, and Tyler finds himself smiling. “Oh shut up, you totally do and you love it, don’t you?”

This time it’s Tyler who laughs, the grin widening on his face. “Maybe.”

“I knew it. You love the attention, love people adoring you.” Josh’s voice trails off, and Tyler thinks to protest. “I know I would.”

Tyler rubs a hand over the back of his neck, shivers sliding down his spine. “I mean yeah, it’s not the worst.”

“I bet you have to beat them off with a stick, cute guy like you. Playing all these incredible songs, owning the stage.”

Tyler blushes harder, his stomach tightening anxiously. “Sometimes.”

Josh laughs. Tyler likes when he laughs. “You ever sleep with any of your fans? Catch someone’s eye at a show, hold their gaze over the crowd until they can’t see anything but you… Take them home and spend a little time lavishing them with all the attention they gave you?”

Josh's voice grows quieter, his words light and breathy. Tyler swallows thickly, that familiar feeling beginning to coil in his abdomen. 

“I uh—I haven’t. Maybe the right person hasn’t shown up yet.”

Josh hums gently, and Tyler reaches down to adjust his slowly tightening pants. “I don’t think I could watch you play and not try to take you home.”

“Oh yeah?” Tyler’s voice cracks, the challenge unimpressive. 

“Mhmm.” Tyler imagines him nodding, a sly smile breaking out over his face. “I’d spend the whole show wanting you, wondering what those fingers would feel like on my skin, what your lips would feel like wrapped around my dick.”

Tyler swallows audibly, his mouth going dry. “You want me to blow you?”

Josh hums again, affirming, and Tyler feels his dick twitch in his pants. “Yeah. I wanna see you down on your knees, that stage presence wiped away, your eyes looking at me and only me.”

Tyler can see himself looking up at him though his eyelashes, hands tightening on muscular thighs. His tongue wets his lips involuntarily. 

“I want that.” His voice is a whisper. 

“Yeah, baby? You wanna wrap your lips around my dick? Give it a nice, long lick? I don’t think it would take much to get me hard, I want you so badly.”

Tyler’s dick throbs painfully, and he’s suddenly aware of how hard he is already. His free hand splays out over his bare chest, fingers gliding softly over skin. He thinks about reaching for his dick, wants to but—

“I wanna jerk myself off while I blow you.”

Tyler can hear the smile in Josh’s voice again. “Mmm, I wanna watch that. I wanna watch you bob up and down on my cock while you touch yourself. Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Can I?” Tyler’s voice is soft, almost timid. 

“Yes, baby.” 

Josh’s voice is so warm, so soft. Tyler’s hand slips below the waistband of his pants, wrapping around himself gently and giving a small tug. He lets out a little gasp. 

“Mmm, do that again.” The command is gentle, and Tyler doesn’t even think of disobeying. 

The second pull is harder, his thumb moving over the slit at the head, where precum is already beading. His gasp is louder this time, sucking in a breath as little shocks move up his torso. Josh hums again and Tyler’s eyes fall shut. It feels so good. So good. 

“I love listening to you, baby. I wanna listen to you moan and pant. Start jerking yourself off so I can listen.”

Tyler’s hand starts moving of its own accord, pumping gently up and down. His breaths grow deeper, letting out a little whimper or two. It’s almost too rough, too dry and—

“Lick your hand.” Josh’s voice floats into his ear, soft and gentle. 

Tyler does as he’s told, wrapping the dampened hand back around himself. It’s better this time, smoother. His head falls back against the pillow, his breaths deepening again. Josh hums in his ear, and Tyler imagines his lips pressed against his neck, behind the soft shell of his ear. He shivers, his pace increasing. 

“You sound so good, baby. Are you thinking about me? Thinking about my dick in your mouth? Warm and heavy, stretching those beautiful, plump lips.”

Tyler shivers again, imagining Josh’s dick on his tongue. He’s never blown anyone in real life, but he knows what Josh’s would taste like, how good it would taste. He can feel it filling up his mouth, feel the way it stretches his lips and pokes at the back of his throat. Josh is so big, so warm and soft in his mouth. Tyler wants to lick that sensitive skin all around him. 

He nods, humming an affirmative and Josh chuckles. “Mouth too full to answer, baby? That’s okay. I like your mouth full of my cock.”

Tyler‘s whole body trembles, letting out a little whimper as his hand continues to slide up and down his length. 

“You’re so pretty like this Tyler, on your knees with my dick in your mouth. You act all big on stage but I see you. This is what you really want, isn’t it?”

Tyler nods, his eyes squeezed shut. “Yes, please.”

“You want my hands in your hair, sliding you further and further down on my cock, until it fills you all the way up. Until you almost can’t breathe, until all you can think about and feel is my cock in your mouth. Huh, baby?”

Tyler whimpers, his hand moving faster and faster over his dick. 

“You getting close? Gonna come all over yourself thinking about my dick in your mouth?” Tyler nods, breathlessly, and it’s like Josh knows. “I wanna hear you. I wanna hear you come all over yourself, thinking about my cock in your mouth.”

Tyler gasps, that familiar feeling tightening in the base of his stomach. 

“Come Tyler, come now.”

He does, spilling over his fingers with a small cry, his whole body tightening and arching off the bed. His hand keeps moving, pumping over himself and drawing out every last drop. His breath catches in his throat, the only sound to be heard is Josh’s even breaths on the other end of the line. Steady, grounding, ordering Tyler to come. Tyler tries to catch his breath as he slowly drops back down on to the bed. 

“Fuck that was so hot.” Josh’s voice is like honey, gliding over every inch of Tyler’s skin. “I bet you have the most beautiful o face, Tyler.”

Tyler chuckles softly, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He’s a mess. “Can you even have a ‘beautiful’ o face?”

He can hear Josh’s smile on the other end. “You tell me.”

Tyler laughs again, his voice still light and breathy. “I haven’t come that hard in a while. I doubt it was very pretty.”

“Agree to disagree, then.” The smile is still there in Josh’s voice, and Tyler realizes he doesn’t want it to go away. 

“So are you really into musicians? Or just very good at your job?” This earns Tyler a real laugh, and he grins at his accomplishment. 

“Who isn’t in to musicians? You got something against talent and lyrics that speak to your soul?” Tyler can’t help chuckling at that one. 

“Fair.” He swallows, making a decision. “What kind of music you like, Josh?”

“Just about everything. Except maybe whatever genre Cotton Eyed Joe belongs to.”

Tyler laughs loudly, his hand moving to his chest where it rises and falls rhythmically. He’s a mess. He should clean up. But there’s a part of him that doesn’t want this to end. Josh’s voice is comforting, familiar somehow, and Tyler just wants to listen to him talk. 

“So, no crazy banjo. Noted.” He grins, his mind fuzzy with endorphins. “You should check out one of my shows sometime. No banjo. I promise.”

Josh’s voice is quiet, unsure. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

There’s quiet for a few moments, and Tyler hears Josh suck in a deep breath before letting out a sigh. 

“Well lover boy, I don’t mind dragging this out but it’s costing you a pretty penny every minute. Call me again sometime?”

Tyler considers his answer, surprised by it. “Yeah, maybe I will. Night, Josh.”

“Night, Tyler.”

* * *

Tyler decides it's a fluke. 

He was bored and some dude on the phone made him come harder than he had in a while. So what? Case closed. Now he had a saucy story to pull out at parties, minus the one detail he wasn’t ready to share yet. _Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I called a phone sex line?_ Mark would call him a pathetic virgin, they’d all laugh but then pester Tyler for details. It was fine, exactly how it was. 

Tyler passes the billboard most days on his way to work. He avoids looking at it some mornings, laughs at it others. Sometimes he sticks his tongue out like a petulant child as he drives by, even though no one will ever see it. He doesn’t delete the picture off his phone though. Not for any particular reason, but just because he forgets. He doesn’t have to. It’s fine. 

He’s grabbing coffee with Mark at The Roosevelt when he hears it, that name. Tyler practically spits an entire mouthful of iced coffee in Mark’s face, and the other man sputters indignantly. He catches sight of a head of blonde hair picking up the cup at the counter, before returning to a table in the window where a laptop waits. Tyler apologizes, offering to grab Mark some napkins, and ventures as close to the table as he dares. 

“Josh” is tall, broad, with honey blonde hair and intense blue eyes. Tyler tries to imagine him instructing Tyler to come, and turns bright red at the thought, though it doesn’t fit as perfectly as he would like. He takes his time collecting napkins, trying to fit “Josh” into his mind’s eye as he goes through their conversation. Imagining him laughing about not liking Cotton Eyed Joe, shyly saying he’d think about coming to one of Tyler’s shows. 

He can’t take it anymore. 

“Josh?” The blonde head whips up, blue eyes boring into Tyler’s brown. 

“Yes?”

The voice is wrong. It’s too deep, rumbling instead of sliding over Tyler’s skin, warm and sugary sweet. Tyler tries to hide his disappointment. 

“Sorry, you look like this guy I know.”

Mark gives him a look when he returns but Tyler doesn’t elaborate. They shuffle back out to the car and Tyler spends the ride home staring out the window. It occurs to him that Josh might not even be his real name. Tyler’s not sure why that thought causes his stomach to drop painfully, but he manages to hide it well from Mark. 

—-

He’s infuriatingly distracted for the next few weeks, and Tyler can feel himself pulling apart at the seams. If he could just get a song down, find a melody that doesn’t make his teeth grate, then he could get some sleep and feel human again. Instead he spends hours late at night going around and around in his head, nothing sticking, it all sliding past like slides in a projector. Mark puts up with him for a while, doesn’t get mad when Tyler texts him at two o’clock in the morning every night for a week, but that fades. Tyler doesn’t blame him, he’s as annoyed with himself as Mark is. 

At some point Tyler’s burned through all the contacts in his phone. There’s no one left who’s awake to distract him from his own thoughts, to change the words repeating over and over again behind his closed eyes. He’s preparing to chuck his phone across the room when the picture comes up again. Tyler stops, biting his lip and trying to decide just how high this ranks on his list of stupid ideas. He’s not particularly horny, but his skin fucking _itches_ and he has to do something. 

“Hi baby, thanks for calling. Who’re you looking to talk to tonight?” The voice is the same, warm and sultry. Tyler finds it weirdly comforting. 

“Uh, is—is Josh available?” He’s so fucking stupid. 

“He sure is, baby, do you wanna talk to him?” 

Tyler nods. Stupid. “Yes. Yeah, can I talk to him?”

“Sure. Let’s just get you set up with billing and then I’m sure Josh will be happy to chat with you.”

Tyler hates the way his stomach flips excitedly as he reads out his credit card number. This is stupid. It’s not like Josh is gonna remember him. He’s a fucking phone sex operator, he makes guys cream their jeans every fucking night. He’s not gonna remember Tyler. This is stupid. He should just hang up. 

“Hey, this is Josh. I heard you were asking for me.” His voice is so warm, confident, like he knows Tyler’s on the other end of the line with his hand already twitching over his crotch. 

He wasn’t even horny and already Tyler can feel his dick hardening. 

“Yeah, hey—hey Josh. This is uh, Tyler. We talked a while ago, you probably don’t—“

Josh interrupts him, a smile audible in his voice. “The musician, I remember. Hey, Tyler.”

Tyler hates the grin that breaks out over his face. “Yeah. Hey.”

Josh laughs gently and Tyler wants to sink into the bed until he’s boneless. “How’s it going, Tyler?”

The word’s already on his lips, the one Tyler gives out every day: _fine_. But something different comes out. “Uh, kinda shitty actually.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, man. You wanna tell me about it?”

Josh shouldn’t care. It’s not his job to care. His job is to get people off, and Tyler knows that. But he sounds so sincere, so kind. Tyler wants to tell him, wants to hear that soft voice wash over him, to wrap it around him like a blanket and sink into it. 

“I just—can’t sleep lately. I’m trying to write some new stuff and nothing’s coming, and my brain—“ He swallows, trying to slow his breathing. “My brain won’t shut the fuck up.”

Josh chuckles kindly, and Tyler feels a small smile push at his lips. “I know what you mean. Sometimes it feels like there’s so much going on in my head that I can’t even put words to it. It’s just this constant cycle of thoughts and feelings that I can’t make sense of.”

“Yeah, yeah exactly.” Tyler lets out a long breath, and when Josh speaks again Tyler can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I can help you relax, if you want. I mean, it’s your money, we can talk about whatever you want. But I do have this job for a reason.”

Tyler laughs, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good.” Tyler imagines soft lips spread in a warm smile. “Close your eyes.”

Tyler does as he’s told, the world slipping to black until all he can focus on is Josh’s voice. 

“Imagine my lips pressed gently against your neck, kissing under your jaw and up to your ear... Take your pants off _._ ”

Tyler can feel Josh’s lips against his ear as he whispers the command, sending shivers down his spine. He unzips his pants one handed, shoving them down around his knees. His hand lingers over his crotch, not quite reaching. Waiting. 

“Touch yourself, Tyler. Think about my hand wrapping around you.”

Tyler takes himself in hand, imagining Josh’s warm, strong fingers wrapping around his length. He sucks in a breath as he squeezes gently, his lip catching between his teeth. Josh breathes quietly in to the phone, Tyler’s breaths unconsciously starting to sync up with them. His heart rate begins to speed up as his breathing begins to slow. 

“I keep thinking about you on your knees for me. I wanna do that for you.” Josh’s voice is like honey. “I wanna taste you.”

Tyler lets out a little cry at the thought, his hand tightening around his dick. 

“Take your boxers off.” Tyler doesn’t think about how Josh knows he’s wearing boxers. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s just a good guess. He shoves them down his legs to join his pants around his knees. 

Josh hums as the cold, evening air hits Tyler’s cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Ty. Laid out like this for me.”

Tyler shivers, his whole body starting to tighten. He wants to feel Josh’s lips on him so badly, wants to feel his broad tongue move up and down his length. He gives his dick a small tug, whimpering. 

“Please Josh.” He’s surprised by the desperation in his own voice. 

“I wanna kiss every inch of that beautiful, tanned skin. Run my tongue over your hip bones, kiss that perfect little trail of hair leading to your cock.” Tyler feels the muscles in his stomach tighten, imagining Josh’s velvety soft voice moving over his skin. 

“Mmm, you’re so warm baby. So soft. Can you feel my lips ghosting over your cock?”

Tyler nods, whimpering again. “Please Josh.”

“I’m gonna give it a nice, long lick. Like the most wonderful ice cream I’ve ever seen.” Tyler can hear the smile in Josh’s voice, it makes his stomach clench tightly. “You taste so good, Tyler, I wanna wrap my lips around you.”

Tyler can feel it, can feel a warm, wet mouth enveloping him. He sucks in a breath as his back arches off the bed, his hand moving over himself. 

“Mmm, so fucking good.” Josh’s mouth sounds full, his words muffled, and Tyler lets out a little moan. 

“That feels so good, Josh. Keep going, please.”

Tyler hears a wet pop and groans. “You like me sucking your dick, Tyler? Imagining me down on my knees, my mouth full of your cock?”

“Yes. Josh—“

He moves off the bed again, dick held tightly in his own hand, imagining Josh sliding up and down his length. He’s already so close and Josh has hardly done anything, Tyler’s probably setting a new record for shortest call. He should feel embarrassed. He doesn’t. There’s not enough blood to fill his cheeks. 

“I want you to fuck me, Tyler. Please.” Josh’s voice sounds more desperate now, still in control but higher. 

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“Mmm, you’re so big I wanna feel that stretch as I slide down on to you.” Josh’s voice is tight, his breathing starting to quicken. Tyler tries to focus on something other than his cock in his hand. He doesn’t want this to end, not yet. 

“Fuck Ty, that feels so good.”

Tyler squeezes himself harder as he pumps up and down, imagining Josh’s hips settling over his. He groans, bucking up into his own hand. “You’re so tight, Josh. So warm. Bounce on my cock, please.”

The smile is back in Josh’s voice. “You wanna watch me bounce on your cock? Watch me come apart?”

Tyler hums an affirmation. 

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby. You’re gonna make me come.”

“Wanna hear you come.” Tyler’s words are stilted, his hand moving faster and faster over himself. 

“Fuck me harder, Ty.”

Tyler’s hand moves faster, his hips fucking upward and into his own palm. He can feel Josh around his dick, feel his ass land heavily against Tyler’s thighs. He wants to dig his hands into that ass, squeeze his hips until he leaves fingerprints. He wants Josh moaning his name, telling him no one’s ever fucked him better. He wants to watch Josh’s beautiful lips fall open in a perfect o. 

“I’m gonna— I’m gonna come, Josh.”

Josh gasps and Tyler almost loses control. “Come inside me Ty, please. I’m so close.”

Tyler comes with a small cry, bucking up into his hand one last time. There’s an echoing cry through the phone as Josh follows him, a deep moan drowning out both their panting breaths. The edges of Tyler’s vision white out, stars bursting behind his closed eyes. He can hardly draw in a deep breath, and he feels like he’s floating a few feet off his bed. Their breaths sync up again as they both start to come down, panting more and more softly. 

Tyler opens his eyes slowly, glancing down at the mess covering his crotch. “Fuck dude, you keep making a mess out of me.”

Josh laughs breathlessly, and Tyler gets the distinct impression it’s not fake. “Just doing my job, dude.”

They both laugh, silence falling over them as they breathe gently into the phone. Tyler’s whole body feels warm, his mind blissfully blank as he focuses on slowing his heart rate. Josh seems just as happy to let the quiet hang between them, both of them listening to the other breathe. Tyler’s eyes slip shut again and he can almost feel Josh curled up beside him in bed, exhales blowing softly over his skin. 

“How’s your brain?” Josh’s voice is barely a whisper. 

“Quiet.”

There’s a beat of silence then, “You said you were trying to write. What do you write about?”

“Life. God. The utter terror of being purposeless.”

“Kinda heavy, dude.” Josh’s voice is kind, and Tyler smiles. 

“You want lyrics that speak to your soul, _someone’s_ gotta speak for the dark places you don’t wanna acknowledge.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

There’s silence again, both of them breathing more softly now. Tyler feels the mess on his lap growing colder but he doesn’t want to move. He could listen to Josh for hours, slipping under the gentle waves of his voice. Tyler could remember the first time he’d sat at the bottom of a pool, the feeling of calmness that had washed over him as silence settled around him. Talking to Josh felt like that. Like his voice was insulating Tyler from everything else. 

“Does it ever feel like the darkness is right sometimes? That every bad thing you think about yourself is true, and everyone else is just lying to you?” The question is heartbreakingly earnest, a whispered confession that pulls at Tyler’s chest. 

“Yes.” Tyler tries to make his mouth work the way he wants. “But it’s not. It’s not, Josh. Don’t listen to it.”

Tyler watches Josh nod slowly in his head, hears him hum softly in his ear. 

“I like talking to you, Tyler. You feel… different.”

“I like talking to you too, Josh. And not just because you make me cream my jeans.” A warm smile spreads out over his face, and Josh laughs quietly. 

“I like making you cream your jeans.”

“Not surprising.”

It’s quiet for another few minutes, both of them breathing evenly into the phone. Tyler feels sleep pulling at him, so unfamiliar after the last few weeks. He’s forgotten what it feels like to slip off, feeling warm and comfortable, and safe. But now he can hardly keep his eyes open, phone clutched against his cheek. 

“Tyler?” The voice is small, fearful. 

“Hmm?”

“Will you—will you call me again?” 

Tyler feels his heart clench painfully, his head filled with Josh’s plea. He wishes he could hold him right now, that they could fall asleep together with Josh’s head pillowed on his shoulder. That Josh could feel his heart beating steadily in his chest. _You did that, Josh. You made me feel loved and cared for._

“Yeah, Josh.”

“You promise?” Tyler sees a pinkie finger held out to him in his mind, words timid and hopeful. 

“I promise.”

* * *

Tyler tries to focus on real life. He tries to throw himself into music, into work, into whatever will keep his mind from wandering to the picture of the billboard. He’s not the only one who knows his mind is elsewhere. Mark keeps giving him weird looks, catching him staring at his phone mournfully like a Victorian widow looking out over the moors. He blushes crimson every time Mark points it out, sputters that nothing is going on; he’s here, he’s listening, what? 

He can’t stop thinking of that little question, the one that makes him think it’s not all in his head. That Josh isn’t just some voice on the other end of the line. That he’s a living, breathing person, like Tyler. Who can’t figure out what the fuck his brain is doing getting so invested in someone who he’s never even seen. Tyler wants so badly to believe that he feels it too. Even though it’s painful to think about. 

He lasts all of a week, before that sultry voice fills his ear again. “Hi baby, thanks for calling. Who’re you looking to talk to tonight?”

Maybe there’s enough change in his couch cushions to pay the rent this month. 

“Can I talk to Josh, please?”

Tyler thinks that Josh’s voice sounds hopeful when he picks up, and it tugs at Tyler’s heart. 

“Hey, this is Josh.”

“Hey. It’s Tyler.”

“Hey, Ty.” Tyler can hear the smile in Josh’s voice, hear the way the tension releases from his shoulders, Tyler’s name like a sigh of relief. “How’s it going?”

“Better. Than last time.”

“So you don’t need any help relaxing this time?” There’s a chuckle in Josh’s voice, and Tyler can’t help responding similarly. 

“Nope, pretty relaxed.”

Josh lets out a little exhale, like he’s nodding. Tyler can almost see his head moving. “Why’d you call then?”

It’s so direct, to the point, and Tyler doesn’t know how to answer. He was kind of hoping he would have come up with an answer by now, but his mind is still blank. I like talking to you? I have a crush on you? I have no idea what you look like, but I imagine myself with you just about every time I jerk off now? No, way too desperate. He can’t say that. 

“Just wanted someone to talk to. No one really picks up my calls at 3:00am. Except you.”

Josh laughs and Tyler smiles at his victory. “You don’t care that you’re literally paying me to talk to you?”

Tyler shrugs, before remembering that Josh can’t see it. “Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re not boring.”

Josh’s laugh is warm and deep. “I’ll do my best.”

They talk about music, Tyler’s and the albums they can’t live without. They talk about Tyler’s job, how he dropped out of school and became the family disappointment. (Josh assures him he’s not exactly boasting to his parents that he works for a phone sex line.) Josh asks him if he’s dating anyone, which leads Tyler to the admission that no one really knows he likes guys yet. Josh is bi, he came out last year. His siblings have been really supportive. 

“No one gives you shit about not ‘picking a side?’”

Josh laughs, like he can see Tyler’s air quotes. “No. They mostly call me greedy, jokingly. And getting them to use gender neutral pronouns when referring to my future partners took some time. But mostly they just want me to be happy. Whoever that’s with.”

“Sounds like they really love you.” Tyler’s voice is soft, envious. 

“Yeah. It’s gross.” 

Tyler can’t help the laugh that bursts from his lips, and he knows Josh is smiling on the other end. 

“Hey, Tyler?” Josh’s voice sounds different, the mood shifts slightly. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“You have?” Tyler swallows thickly. 

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about you when I’m alone, when I—when I’m touching myself.”

Tyler’s mouth goes dry, trying to think of something clever to say. What comes out is decidedly less so. “Oh.”

“I think about you bending me over my kitchen table. About you fucking me until I’m moaning your name.”

Tyler swallows again. His mouth is so fucking dry. “I wanna hear you moan my name. I wanna fuck you until you can’t remember anyone else you’ve ever been with.”

Josh sucks in a breath and Tyler feels that tightening in the base of his stomach. “I wanna fuck you until the only thing you can think about is my cock in your ass. How good it makes you feel.”

Josh whimpers and Tyler’s hand slips below the waistband of his basketball shorts. “Do you want me to do that, Josh? Do you want me to fuck you, hard and fast?”

“Yes, please.” His words are breathy, desperate. Tyler wants to press his lips against the soft skin of his throat. Feel him trembling beneath him. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll beg me not to stop, to bury my dick inside of you and fill you up. Is that what you want, Josh? You want me to take you however I want, do whatever I want?”

“Yes.” The word is breathless, barely audible, and Tyler knows how close he must be. 

He imagines Josh laying out on his bed, naked, head against the pillows. He imagines a strong hand wrapped around his dick, pumping furiously as he listens to Tyler on the other end of the line. It’s an intoxicating feeling, knowing he’s doing this to Josh with just his words, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Tyler gets why Josh likes this so much, why he does what he does. 

“I wanna listen to you moan my name while you come, Josh. Say it, I wanna hear it.”

“I—fuck—Tyler. Tyler. Tyler. _Tyler_.” The last utterance of his name drags out into a moan, Josh’s voice fading into nothingness with the strength of his orgasm. 

Tyler listens to him gasp, imagines his back arched off the bed, his body taught. He traces the beads of sweat down his skin, watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. Josh hums quietly, swallowing thickly enough that Tyler can hear it. Tyler can see his lip caught between his teeth, his hand still lazily pumping over his cock. It’s probably a beautiful cock, perfect and pink. Tyler wishes he could see it. 

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Tyler whispers, surprised at the tenderness in his voice. 

Josh laughs quietly, and Tyler can imagine the blush blooming out over his cheeks as he answers haltingly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a client make me come like that. Did you…”

“No.” Tyler’s honest. “But listening to you was so hot. I wish I could have recorded it to listen to whenever I wanted.”

Josh laughs again. “Send me an extra five bucks and I’ll make you an mp3.”

They both laugh, settling back into silence after a while. Tyler listens to Josh’s breaths as they even out, the phone pressed between his ear and the pillow. His heartbeat thunders away in his chest, and Tyler realizes he still has that tight feeling in his stomach. He’s not turned on, his dick already half soft, but it’s something. A feeling he _just_ recognizes— Tyler’s too scared to look at it too closely. 

“I’m playing a show this weekend. Downtown. You should come.”

“Yeah?” Josh’s voice is shy again, like he doesn’t quite believe what Tyler’s saying. 

“Yeah. I’ll even leave a ticket for you, if you want. For Josh. That _is_ your real name right?”

Josh laughs and Tyler feels warmth in the tips of his toes. “Yeah, that’s my real name.”

“Okay. One ticket for Josh. At The Basement, Saturday night, 8:00 o’clock. If you—if you wanna come.”

“Okay.” Josh’s voice is quiet. 

Tyler presses his ear harder against the phone, tries to see if he can hear Josh’s heartbeat through the receiver. But all he can hear are Josh’s even breaths, his own matching them. 

“Night, Josh.”

“Night, Tyler.”

* * *

Mark catches him peeking around the venue for the fifth time that night. Tyler doesn’t even know what he’s looking for but he’s _looking_. 

“Dude, what is up with you?” Tyler jumps about a foot at the sound of his voice, as if illustrating Mark’s point. 

“Nothing.” 

Mark glances over his shoulder out at the crowd, but he knows even less what he’s looking for than Tyler. “Is someone coming, or something? Some girl?”

“No.” Tyler’s answer is automatic, defensive, as his cheeks turn red. 

Mark gives him a knowing smile but shrugs. “Whatever, man. Just chill, okay? You’re making _me_ nervous.”

Tyler shoves him backstage and Mark goes willingly, laughing. He doesn’t even know if Josh is going to show. If he _wants_ Josh to show. If he comes it’s a clear answer: this isn’t all in Tyler’s head, there’s more to this than 3:00am phone calls where they get each other off. Tyler can’t decide if he’s excited by that answer, or terrified. And it makes his stomach clench painfully every time he thinks about it. 

When it’s time he walks out on the empty stage, his ukulele on its stand, looping pedal at the foot of his mic. He always starts with the uke, lets the audience know that just because it’s only him on the stage doesn’t mean he can’t do great things. It’s high risk, high reward: he either bombs in the first few minutes, or they’re his for the next hour and a half. It never fails to make his fingers twitch nervously, to make him feel like this might be the time his voice finally fails and his throat closes up, like it threatens to every time. But somehow he keeps going. 

“Uh hey, I’m twenty one pilots. The other twenty guys couldn’t make it tonight.” The crowd chuckles and Tyler smiles with a confidence he doesn’t feel. “Hope you enjoy the show.”

The melodies come easy, the words less so, but his body switches into autopilot from the first strum. His foot moves over the pedal with unconscious muscle memory, Tyler’s eyes sweeping the crowd as he picks cords and sings tones. When he’s ready the song begins, and Tyler watches as everyone slowly stops moving. Drinks rest in hands, condensation sliding slowly down the side. Feet are planted, bodies don’t sway, and Tyler feels all their eyes on him. 

Josh’s words from their first conversation pop into his head. _You love the attention, love people adoring you._ Tyler’s not sure if he loves being adored, but he does like to be listened to. Sometimes it feels like the only time someone listens to him is right now, right here on this stage. People hear him, but they don’t listen. They’re thinking about what _they_ want to say, how _they_ want to respond, and they’re not really listening. But when Tyler looks out over the crowd, sees them all watching him, unmoving, he knows they’re listening. 

The show goes well. Tyler tries not to look so obvious glancing over the crowd, looking for someone he’s not even sure he’d recognize. He thinks about Josh’s warm, comforting voice, tries to imagine what it would look like as a person. Someone strong and gentle maybe, someone who looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Tyler sees lots of kind smiles, flashing white teeth and crinkled eyes, but he’s not sure any of them are _his_. That any of them are Josh. 

Towards the end of the set he catches sight of a guy toward the front of the crowd, on the edges of the larger group. He doesn’t have a drink, hands stuffed into his pockets, and his eyes are focused on Tyler. There’s a mess of dark curls on top of his head, and his warm brown eyes have such deep laugh lines that Tyler can see them even from up on stage. Tyler catches his eye at some point and the man smiles gently, warming Tyler all the way to his toes. 

Is that you, Josh? Did you really come to hear me play? Tyler wants to pull his fingers from the piano keys, to put everything on hold as he reaches out tentatively, hopefully. He wants it to be him, wants it to be real, he realizes, and the thought is so scary. Tyler doesn’t do this well: opening up to people, being vulnerable. He’s better on stage, where there’s an invisible wall between him and everyone else. Where no one can touch him. 

Tyler loses sight of him during the last song, his eyes focused on the keys beneath his fingers. He likes to finish on the piano, leave a lingering note for them to take home with them, a cry to keep them up at night. When he finishes he’s out of breath, looking out over thunderous applause. He glances over to where the man was standing but he’s gone, disappeared into the crowd. Tyler tries to pull on a smile as his heart drops into his stomach. Maybe it wasn’t even him. Maybe Tyler just wanted it to be him. 

Mark pulls him into a hug when he gets off stage, but then holds him out at arm’s length, a strange look on his face. “You okay, Ty?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He tries to smile in a way that’s believable. He’s not entirely sure it works. 

“You sure?” Mark’s voice is soft, no accusation, just understanding, and Tyler finds it so hard not to sink in to that. 

“Uh huh. Totally good, dude.” Tyler pats him on the shoulder gently, before pushing past him into the green room. Mark doesn’t follow him, and Tyler’s secretly glad. 

—-

“Hey, Tyler.” Josh’s voice has all the usual warmth, with none of the usual smile. How does he do that?

“Hey.” In contrast Tyler’s voice sounds quiet, even to him. Does Josh not want to talk to him? Should he not have called?

“How’s it going?”

It’s his usual question. Tyler always thought he really wanted to know, but maybe that was just how he started every conversation. Maybe Tyler had made this into something it wasn’t. The thought is like a hand around his throat, stealing the breath from his chest. He tries to come up with an answer to Josh’s question but it’s difficult. The silence stretches out between them. 

“How was your show?”

Why do you wanna know, he wants to ask. You didn’t care enough to come. You just say these things and act like you care but you don’t. Tyler feels his chest tighten. 

“Good. Seemed like people were enjoying it.”

“How could they not?” The smile is back in Josh’s voice and Tyler thinks about hanging up, right then and there. Fuck him for thinking he can just take Tyler’s money and make him feel like this is real when it isn’t. 

“Were you there?” Tyler’s voice sounds pathetic, even to him. He’s so fucking stupid. Making this into more than a business transaction. He wishes he’d never called. 

“Yeah. I was there.” Josh’s voice is so small Tyler almost doesn’t hear him. There’s a part of him that’s positive he heard him _wrong_. 

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

There’s silence, Tyler trying to fight the waves of nausea breaking over him. Why didn’t he come up to him? Why didn’t he say anything? It’s not like he didn’t know who Tyler was. There was only one musician up on that stage that night. Tyler suddenly feels angry, angry that Josh now knows who he is and Tyler still knows nothing. But it passes, leaving disappointment aching in his chest. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tyler’s words echo into the silence. 

There’s quiet for a few minutes, and Tyler focuses on Josh’s breathing. It’s somehow calming, even now. He wonders if Josh knows the effect he has, if he knows how attuned Tyler’s body is to him. Did he plan it that way? Does it happen to everyone who calls him? Or is Tyler the first stupid idiot to fall for the guy he pays for phone sex?

“What if I disappoint you, Tyler? What if I’m not what you expect?”

Josh's voice feels like tears against his cheeks, warm and salty. Tyler aches. 

“Josh—“

“Maybe we should just leave it like this. It’s better like this.”

Tyler doesn’t know what to say. He wants to protest, to tell him Josh could never disappoint him. He doesn’t care what he looks like, no one’s ever made him feel this way. Hundreds of eyes on him every weekend and the only one he wants to see him is Josh. His whole body fucking aches. 

“Okay.”

* * *

Before long Tyler doesn’t have to look at the photo when he calls. His fingers move of their own accord, the number burned into his memory. Their calls get longer and there’s less getting off, though when they do it’s a feeling Tyler can never replicate on his own. Sometimes Tyler falls asleep with Josh’s voice in his ear, and wakes up to them disconnected. It’s jarring, expecting to have Josh right there next to him, and waking up alone. 

He’s so fucking stupid. Josh isn’t even there. Not really. He’s always fucking alone. 

Tyler stops looking at his phone bill, stops thinking about how much he’s spending, and just pays it. He picks up extra shifts at work when he can, and watches as his bank account averages back to zero anyway. There’s a part of him that thinks he should be mad, that he should feel resentful that he has to pay for Josh’s attention. But every time Josh picks up the phone, and that warm and calm feeling washes over Tyler the only thing he feels is grateful. Grateful that Josh is a part of his day, however small. 

“You look terrible dude, are you sleeping?” Mark’s voice hovers above his head where it rests against the kitchen table. 

“I’m fine, dude.” He should probably lift his head. It’d be more convincing that way. 

“You’re not. But if you’re not gonna talk to me about it I guess there’s not much I can do.” Mark sounds frustrated. Tyler hates when he’s mad at him. It makes him feel cornered, makes him say things he shouldn’t. 

“Fuck you.” See? Things he shouldn’t say. 

“Tyler. Look at me.” 

He’s gonna yell at him. Tyler deserves to be yelled at. Someone should tell him how stupid he’s being, what a shitty friend he’s been. When he lifts his head and looks at Mark he doesn’t see anger though, he sees concern. It’s worse somehow. Not as bad as pity, but it still makes Tyler’s head hurt. 

“What’s going on with you, dude? You’re not writing as much, sometimes you look so fucking happy it’s obnoxious, and other times I’m scared to ask you how you’re doing.”

Tyler watches him, feels his eyes burn with unshed tears and wants so badly to let them fall. 

“Please talk to me, Ty.”

Mark watches him, his eyes gentle and his voice kind. Tyler wonders why he keeps things from him, why he’s so scared to tell him what’s important. He shouldn’t be. Mark loves him, he doesn’t have to tell him. Tyler knows. 

“I think I might be bi.”

It’s clearly not what Mark’s expecting him to say. His mouth doesn’t drop open in shock, but it’s obvious that it’s only because he’s consciously not doing so. He blinks slowly, looking at Tyler, and Tyler waits. The minutes stretches out until they feel endless and Tyler starts to get that anxious, itchy feeling again. He wants to yell at him to say something, anything, but he’s too scared of what will come out of Mark’s mouth. 

“Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

Tyler actually laughs, and thinks about telling him that he knew that already. 

“You _think_?” Mark peers at him and Tyler can feel his cheeks heating. 

“I—I’m bi, Mark.”

Mark seems more satisfied with this answer, a smile sliding over his face. “Cool.”

That’s it. The whole conversation takes all of a minute, and Tyler thinks about pressing it. Is it really cool? Is Mark about to freak out on him and worry that Tyler’s harboring some secret crush? He’s not, but Tyler knows that’s often a point of worry for straight dudes who suddenly find out their friends aren’t exactly. But Mark doesn’t say anything, and Tyler decides he likes how anticlimactic it all is. It feels like them. 

“Cool.”

—-

“I told Mark. That I’m bi.” Tyler has the phone pressed to his ear, his foot toeing at the edge of his keyboard. He should write something. He wants to write something. 

“That great, Ty. What’d he say?”

“‘Cool.’ That was it.” Josh laughs warmly and Tyler smiles. 

“I like that dude.”

“Yeah, you guys would get along.” It’s as close as they’ve gotten to discussing their real lives overlapping in a long time. 

Tyler almost starts to feel guilty for bringing it up, before deciding that’s stupid. He still wants Josh to be a part of his real life, want this to be something other than a business arrangement. It doesn’t feel like one anymore, it feels like a friendship. Even a relationship, if Tyler’s honest. Despite the fact that he’s still paying for it. He knows Josh is scared, he can tell every time he pushes back. Tyler wishes they could talk about it. 

There’s silence for a while, both of them listening to the other breathe. 

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever wanna do something besides this?” 

“Besides getting people off over the phone, you mean?” Josh chuckles and Tyler knows he’s not offended by the question. 

“Yeah. Like, what did you wanna be when you grew up?” Tyler’s question is tentative, his voice gentle. 

“Honestly dude, I don’t even remember. Just, happy, I guess?” There’s a pause. “Talking to you makes me happy, so I guess I kinda did it.”

Tyler smiles softly, his cheeks heating in a blush. 

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be disappointed. You have to know that. By now.” His voice is quiet, timid. Josh must know how he feels about him, right?

There’s silence on the other end, stretching out until Tyler starts to itch again. 

“I’m scared, Ty. This is easier. It doesn’t—it doesn’t hurt as much like this.”

Tyler lets his words sink in, their breaths exchanging quietly over the line. 

“Doesn’t it though?”

* * *

Mark sets him up on a date. Some girl he went to school with who’d seen one of Tyler’s gigs and “wouldn’t stop asking” about him. Tyler’s pretty sure it’s all a farce, that Mark can tell how withdrawn he’s gotten and just wants him to go somewhere other than work or his apartment. Honestly he doesn’t really care; it’s getting harder and harder to talk to Josh without asking him every time. Tyler thinks if he brings it up again Josh will start blocking his calls, and the thought hurts worse than Josh continuing to put off meeting him in person. 

“You’re different up close.” 

Is he supposed to be offended? Her tone isn’t mean, but her blue eyes are boring into his face. 

“Different how?”

“I dunno.” Jenna looks him over, like the right answer might be written on the leg of his pants or the hem of his t-shirt. “You just seem… different.”

Tyler’s eyes squint, trying to decide if he _is_ offended, and Jenna holds up a hand, rushing. 

“It’s not a bad thing, promise. You just seem realer, more tangible? This sounds stupid, I’m sorry.”

Her cheeks start to darken in a blush and Tyler reaches out a hand for her upper arm, smiling softly. “It’s cool, Jenna.”

They go to the Italian restaurant downtown, the one Tyler went to when he was in high school and wanted to impress his date. He can still barely afford it, honestly, but the place has a nostalgia that feels comforting. Jenna settles into her chair like she belongs there and Tyler’s envious. Dates always make him feel like his skin doesn’t fit, like everyone else just inherently knows how to do this and he’s the idiot who missed the lesson. She orders with a smile on her face and Tyler thinks about how pretty she looks. 

“I haven’t heard about you playing a gig in a while.” It’s a question, not an accusation, and Tyler tries not to get defensive. 

“Yeah, I uh—I haven’t written much in a while. Kind of distracted. Work and stuff.” It sounds lame even to him. 

Jenna nods. “I know what you mean. I come home some days and it’s all I can do to faceplant on my bed instead of the kitchen floor.”

Tyler chuckles, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest. He likes her, she’s kind. 

“I envy you though. It must be such a good outlet, putting words and notes to feelings like that. Sometimes I feel like it’s all just sitting in my chest, heavy and immovable. Like it’s gonna crush me at any second.”

Tyler watches her take a sip of her water, like what she’s said is the most casual thing in the world. He glances at the long blonde hair draped over her shoulder, the way her eyes sparkle in the candle light. Jenna doesn’t look like someone who’s ever struggled with anything in her life, but here she is, telling Tyler her own feelings seem like they could crush her sometimes. Tyler admonishes himself for assuming anything about the girl across from him. Maybe Mark really did think they’d be a good fit. 

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, and her eyes meet his, unwavering. “I know how you feel.”

They talk throughout the rest of the meal about whatever. Jenna laughs at him when he accidentally spits a bit of garlic bread out during a particularly animated story, and Tyler grins. It’s nice. Jenna’s easy to talk to, she makes him feel like he doesn’t have to be or say a certain thing. It’s the first date in a long time that Tyler’s skin feels like it fits him, like he can just be himself. He’d forgotten how simple it can be sometimes. She likes him and he likes her. Simple. 

Tyler walks her to her door at the end of the night. He knows how this goes, what comes next. When she leans in to him she smells like orange and vanilla, like those creamsicle ice creams he loved when he was a kid. Her lips are so soft, so gentle and Tyler can’t help leaning into her. Her hand snakes up into his hair, blunt nails scratching against the back of his neck. Tyler shivers and she hums quietly. 

It could be like this, easy and gentle. Tyler can see their whole relationship, see the life they could build together and part of him wants it. Part of him wants to sink into Jenna and her easy smile, the way she makes the place in the middle of his chest ache less noticeably. But Tyler would spend the rest of his life listening for Josh’s voice in the darkness. Wondering what could have been. 

He leans back, his hand moving to cup her elbow as her arm falls from his neck. “Jenna I—“

Her eyes are so blue, and Tyler feels like he’s drowning. 

“I’m sorry, I— I can’t.”

Tyler watches hurt flash across the surface. She thinks she’s done something wrong, she’s read something that isn’t there. Tyler gives her elbow a small squeeze and her expression softens. 

“You’re wonderful Jenna, so much more wonderful than I deserve but I— I’m in love with someone.”

He’s never said it out loud. Never even let himself really think it. But now it’s real, floating in the air between them, buoyed on the breaths they've exchanged. Jenna takes a step back, her arm falling further, but Tyler holds on. She doesn’t shrug him off and Tyler’s grateful for her generosity in letting him explain. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. I—I’m sorry.”

Jenna watches him, her eyes tracing his face as Tyler’s burn with unshed tears. She finally lifts her arm from his hand, long, soft fingers cupping his cheek. 

“Tyler? Is that the first time you’ve said that out loud?”

He swallows thickly. “Yes.”

“Why are you scared, baby?” Her hand pushes up into his hair, moving it off his brow gently. Tyler feels a tear slide down his cheek and it’s like the dam finally breaking open. 

“Because I think he’s gonna break my heart.”

Jenna doesn’t say anything, her hand moving through his hair. She finally reaches for him, pulling him against her, and Tyler melts into the embrace. Jenna pillows her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his chest rises as falls with silent sobs. She holds him and she runs her hand up and down his back, and she shushes him gently. Tyler buries his nose in her hair and tries to catch his breath, surrounded by the smell of orange and vanilla. 

“Tyler.” Her voice is gentle, pulling him back from the edge. “You have to tell him. You know that, right?”

Tyler nods slowly, the words sinking under his skin and settling beneath his ribs. “I know.”

* * *

It takes him a week to work up the courage. He does everything he can to distract himself that week, even writing a new song. (If he’d known that would crack his writer’s block he would have admitted to himself earlier that he was in love with Josh.) But at some point he can’t avoid it any longer. He goes to sleep thinking about Josh’s voice, his lips pressed to Tyler’s ear while they talk about nothing and everything. Tyler wakes up missing him with an ache in his chest. 

“Hi baby, thanks for calling. Who’re you looking to talk to tonight?” 

“Josh, please. It’s Tyler.”

“Sure, baby. One second.”

Tyler thinks about hanging up as his stomach clenches painfully. He thinks about every time he steps onstage at the beginning of a show. _High risk, high reward_. He could lose Josh tonight. He could lose one of the best things that’s ever happened to him, one of the people who knows him the best. He can’t do this. 

“Hey.” Josh’s voice is warm, a wave of calm washing over Tyler. 

“Hey.”

“I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Josh’s voice drops to barely a whisper. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” 

Tyler’s chest aches. 

“Hey, it’s our anniversary, you know. Five months since you called me for the first time.”

Josh remembers. He remembers the first time Tyler called him, before either of them knew this was even going to mean anything. Tyler’s feels his heartbeat quicken in his chest. He remembers. He matters to Josh. Tyler knows it as suddenly as he knows that this is it. There’s no going back. 

“I wanna meet you, Josh.”

There’s a sigh. “Tyler—“

“No. I can’t keep doing this, Josh. I can’t keep talking to you like we’re friends, like we’re lovers, and not really know you. I can’t—“ He swallows, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I love you, Josh. Okay? I do. And I didn’t want to, and I tried not to but I do. So I can’t do this anymore.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, and Tyler pushes on before he loses his nerve. 

“Please. Please just meet me. Saturday, at The Basement. After my show. I’ll leave you a ticket, just like the first time. I’ll close my fucking eyes when you introduce yourself, I’ll do whatever you want just please, Josh. Please.”

He sounds so fucking desperate and he wants to be disgusted with himself but he’s just so tired. He’s so tired of feeling lost and unhappy. He wants Josh here, right _here_ , where he can see him and hold him. Where he can tell him he loves him, and know that Josh hears him. He has to hear him, he has to. 

“Tyler—“

“Just come, Josh. Please.”

Before he can think better of it he hangs up the phone, letting it rest in the palm of his hand as the night grows heavy around him. 

—-

Mark knows he’s anxious, but he doesn’t know why. It’s clear he knows this is more than Tyler’s usual pre-show jitters, but he also knows Tyler tells him things when he’s ready, and he’s obviously not ready. Tyler whispers a thank you to him as he squeezes his hand, before walking out to the stage. He can feel himself coming apart at the seams, and he knows one pull from Mark will completely unravel him. He has to focus, he has to look at it just one song at a time. 

“Hey, so I’m twenty one pilots. The other twenty guys are home sick with food poisoning tonight. Turns out you shouldn’t trust gas station hot dogs.” The crowd laughs and Tyler’s face cracks into a nervous smile. “I’m gonna start things a little differently tonight, I hope that’s cool with you.”

Jenna’s at the front of the crowd, pressed up against the stage close enough that Tyler can see the freckles on her nose. She smiles at him and Tyler’s chest feels less hollow. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and starts to strum the ukulele. There’s no pedal tonight, nothing to back him up or buoy him on. It’s just him, just Tyler. He hopes it’s enough. 

He watches the crowd as he sings, watches their feet shuffle impatiently before coming to a stop. He watches them lean to whisper to their friends, before their heads rise and lips stop moving. His voice almost cracks in the second verse and Tyler watches some of them wince, before relaxing back into it as he recovers. It’s more intimate than Tyler has ever experienced, and he regularly plays on a stage all alone. 

When he finishes there’s silence for a few moments, not even an awkward cough to break the tension. Maybe this is finally the night, maybe he’s finally lost them. But then a clap rings out and Tyler glances down to see Jenna smiling at him, tears at the corners of her eyes making them sparkle. Before long the whole crowd has joined her and Tyler smiles at her softly. He really doesn’t deserve her. 

“Thanks, I uh—I wrote that one recently. For someone. And it was kind of scary to write and really scary to play so, thanks. Thanks for not hating it.”

There’s laughter among the crowd and Tyler’s smile grows. 

“Okay. Let’s liven this place up, huh?”

The next hour passes by quickly. Tyler feels like he’s grasping on to moments, trying to draw it out, but it won’t be held. All too soon he’s reached the end of his set, and Tyler finds himself at the piano again. The keys are cool beneath his fingers, and he lets out a long breath. This is still the one place he feels safe, the one place that feels like he belongs there. He told Josh once that he wrote about the fear of being purposeless, but Tyler doesn’t feel it anymore. 

He knows his purpose. 

When he’s done he takes a small bow, his cheeks colored red, and shuffles off the stage. Mark is there to hug him, followed by Jenna, and Tyler lets their love sink into his skin. It feels like standing in the sun after a long, cloudy day, like the cold is a forgotten dream, and hope is at his fingertips. Even if Josh doesn’t show tonight, even if he loses him forever, Tyler’s not alone. 

Mark buys him a drink, for his “nerves” and Tyler wants to hug him again. He doesn’t press Tyler for answers, doesn’t expect explanations, and Tyler’s grateful. Jenna’s slips her hand into his, her warm fingers wrapping around his clumsy ones, and gives them a soft squeeze. Tyler presses a kiss against the crown of her head and whispers a thank you into her hair. She smiles at him gently before slipping off, heading back to the friends she’s dragged along with her. 

“I gotta pack up my shit.” Mark claps him on the shoulder and Tyler tries not to choke on his drink. “See you backstage?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah, just uh, just give me a sec.”

“No worries, dude. Finish your drink. Soak up the adoration. I’ll see ya back there.” Mark gives him a cheeky smile and then he’s gone, melting into the crowd of the venue. 

Tyler tries to breath, his heart jumping into his throat every time someone stops to congratulate him, or tell him how much they liked the show. He smiles, he’s grateful, but he’s quiet, and after a while they drift away again. He starts to feel it pooling in the pit of his stomach—disappointment—and tells himself that Josh could still show. That it’s not over yet. But every time it’s another unfamiliar voice greeting him Tyler starts to feel closer and closer to crying. 

He turns to motion to the bartender, pushing his empty glass forward and nodding with a “thanks.”

“Tyler?”

His whole body stills, his mind wiping blank. He knows that voice. He dreams of that voice. Tyler turns slowly, feeling somehow outside of his body. The man is strangely familiar—a head of brown curls and warm brown eyes. He smiles nervously, laugh lines deep at the corners of his eyes, and Tyler remembers. 

“You _were_ there. That night.” His voice is tight, his eyes burn, and Tyler can’t help reaching out to place a hand against his cheek. There’s stubble rough beneath his fingers, but Josh’s smile is soft. “I saw you.”

Josh, _his Josh_ , lifts his hand to lay it over Tyler’s, his eyes wet. “You were so beautiful up there, Ty. So fucking bright and I—I got scared.”

Tyler raises his other hand to cup Josh’s face between them, his thumbs brushing gently over the freckles dusting his cheek bones. His smile is sad, his own tears burning at the corners of his eyes, and he wishes he could have told Josh that night. How badly he wanted it to be him. Josh lets his head hang heavy in Tyler’s hands, his long fingers wrapping tightly around Tyler’s wrist. He’s here, he’s real, and Tyler feels a warmth in his chest like he’s never experienced. 

He leans forward slowly, scared that Josh will pull away at any moment, that he’ll be gone. But Josh just watches him, brown eyes fixed on Tyler’s own, as their lips grow closer together. Tyler stops just short of pressing them against his, their breaths mingling together and sending shivers down Tyler’s spine. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows this is it, this is his last first kiss. 

As he finally lowers his head fully, his lips gently meeting Josh’s, he sends up a silent prayer of thanks, for boredom, and for billboards. 


End file.
